


The Wrong Side of the Bed

by theheadandthekin



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Curses, F/M, Humor, Ichabbie Holloween, Sharing a Bed, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 19:16:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8413441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheadandthekin/pseuds/theheadandthekin
Summary: Abbie and Crane fall victim to a curse. And each other. Maybe.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted on Tumblr. Written for Ichabbie Holloween 2016.

  
**Part 1:  Curses  
**

* * *

“Jesus, Crane!”

He cursed and slammed the kettle onto the stove– _again–_ and the squeal of metal-on-metal as it slid across the burner made her cringe.

“Get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

“I’ll have you know, Lieutenant, that that … superstition,” he spat. “That superstition is provincial folkloric nonsense of the highest order. I am merely _impatient_ to have my tea and the water is taking far longer than usual to boil.”

“Okaaay.” Abbie watched him tense further. He was prone to being cranky as hell, but he’d been better lately. This, however, was next-level, first-days-out-of-the-ground crankiness. “I’m headed into work. Hope your day, uh, improves.”

“It shan’t.”

* * *

When she arrived home to find her partner telling a telemarketer how they ought to be introduced to a horse’s back end, she had an inkling that something of the supernatural variety might be going on . Abbie waited to approach the kitchen until he hung up.

“Everything cool?”

He glared at the phone for a few more seconds before raising his eyes to glare at her.

“I can’t seem to gain control of it. I was irritated with a piece of _cheese,_ Lieutenant. _Bloody cheese._ To borrow a modern turn of phrase from you, I feel as if I want to punch something.”

“Anything unusual happen yesterday? This morning before I came down?” 

He rolled his eyes. He actually _rolled his eyes._ “I was not stung by a wasp, if you are implying such a thing.”

She crossed in front of him to the liquor cabinet and busied herself pulling out a bottle.

“You’re sure?”

“I am not a _child._ And you, Miss Mills, are certainly not my mother.”

She looked up and threw a big smile at him over her shoulder. “Nope.”

He simply glowered back.

“Here.” She pivoted and handed him a generous pour of rum. “Drink this. Relax. Sleep it off.”

* * *

Abbie rolled out of bed and the moment her feet touched the floor, her blood heated and she became dizzy with irritation.  


“Fuck.”

* * *

For one morning, she just wanted peace and quiet. She wanted the house to herself. She wanted to be able to move around her kitchen without tripping over her roommate, partner … whatever he was.

That wasn’t going to be this morning.

Or any morning for the foreseeable future.

It wasn’t that she wanted to pick a fight, but she couldn’t _help_ it.

“Why are you _always_ down here when I get up?”

“Because, like you, I am an early riser, and I wish to _eat_ when I awake?”

“Yeah, well, it’s annoying.”

He pulled up to his full height and failed completely at schooling his face into a neutral expression as he stared past her shoulder. “I’m sorry my presence _offends_ , Miss Mills.”

“Cut the passive-aggressive shit, Crane. Not in the mood for it.”

And … there was a repeat of yesterday’s kettle-slam. “Seems as if we are _both_ in a mood this morning. Stung by any _wasps_ lately?”

* * *

“It’s a thing,” Jenny assured them. “You knew that seer wasn’t going to give you info for free, right?”

“Bitch.”

“Hey, it could be _so_ much worse.”

* * *

“I am so angry at you right now.”

“Believe me, I take no delight in this being our only solution to the problem.”

Abbie tucked the quilt under her chin, Not that it _helped_. “This better fucking work.”

He huffed audibly. “You can surely stand to share your bed with me for three nights.”

“I feel like we’re missing a more obvious solution. Like just shoving the bad sides of our respective beds against the wall. Well, if we knew which were the bad sides. _Fuck._ ” 

Abbie felt the mattress shift as he squirmed around. Hell. She was in hell.

“The book was _quite_ clear, Miss Mills, that the only way to limit the spell’s effects is for the unfortunate victim to share her bed in order to confuse the magic. Unless you’d rather call Daniel Reynolds to aid you in breaking _your_ part of the curse.”

“Fuck you, Crane.”

“You are behaving as though f _irst_ , this solution is worse than the curse itself, and _second_ –”

“Here we go,” she groaned.

“You know … nevermind. In the morrow, I shall fashion a bundling board so as to prevent anything from happening between us whilst we share your bed.”

“What the hell? Who said anything about anything ‘happening’? You’ve made it perfectly clear where you stand on _that_ issue.”

“Where I …? That is a bold and entirely baseless assertion.”

She gripped the edge of the quilt so tightly her fingers ached. 

“Whatever; I don’t want to hear it. Go. To. Sleep. We can have a goddamn civil conversation in the morning when this wears off.”

“I am far too angry to sleep. And now that–”

“Too fucking bad. My bed, my rules. And unlike _you,_ I gotta go to work tomorrow.”

“It is not my fault–”

“Shh! One more word, and I’m smothering you with my pillow to shut you up.”

* * *

The first thing Abbie noticed as she drifted to wakefulness was a feeling of calm that had eluded her all of the previous day.

The second thing she noticed was a large, warm hand gripping her ass.

“Fuck.”


End file.
